The True Face of Evil
by alanthemiller
Summary: In this version of Death Note, Ryuk himself is pure evil, and the very embodiment of the myths humans come up with concerning shinigami. He won't hesitate to kill, both gods of death and humans alike if he can't bend them to his will. Beware Light Yagami.


**Chapter 1: Gods of Death**

In the lore of humans, there existed mythical creatures known simply as gods of death. No one could have possibly been able to present any kind of evidence to demonstrate such beings actually exist. Nonetheless, unbeknownst to most humans, these dark, ominous creatures do in fact reside in reality, in closer proximity to humans than they would care to know. For if they did know, many mortals would probably become traumatized, possibly more so than any other ghostly figure humans associate with in fiction. At night, they would be terrified, not knowing whether they would awaken with their soul intact. They would have every right to do so, if the distorted image of gods of death in myth were accurate. In actuality, there is but one of these creatures who still satisfies that stereotype.

Taking a multitude of shapes and forms, the grotesque features of a god of death would terrify the average mortal. Certain individuals among their race vaguely resemble humans, while others breed horrible nightmares due to their monstrous figures. Despite this, their personalities usually do not run in proximity with the somewhat deceiving stereotype one could deduce from viewing one of them firsthand. The majority of the Shinigami take no pleasure in haunting their mortal counterparts as typical stories suggest. In what is a cruel irony, they are the ones afraid of perishing. In their early history, it was common for humans to die at their hands due to personal grudges and the like; however, such demonic practices had grown boring in their sight millennia ago. Living in loneliness and solitude encompasses their lifestyle now, a depression so great it would quickly drive a human to suicide. They wander the desolate landscape of their world searching for a reason to continue their existence. In truth, their existence has no real purpose, because humans are susceptible to death without a Shinigami's judgment. However, their method of killing will never undergo such morbid changes.

The Shinigami themselves are not the real culprit of terror they are able to produce. Their method for killing earns that distinction, although it would appear harmless at first glance: a simple black notebook with but two words written on its cover: _Death Note._ The _Note _has been with the gods of death since the beginning of time, but only a select few of their kind know the full extent of how it operates. Nevertheless, there are three main rules of the _Note_ that Shinigami are instinct fully aware of:

1. If a human's name is written in the notebook, they will die of a heart attack in forty seconds.

2. If wanted, the writer has six minutes and forty seconds to write any cause and details of death they please; even allowing mental control up to twenty-three days after the name is initially written.

While these two are twisted in their concept, the third of these rules is the most disturbing of them all.

3. A god of death has the freedom to loan the _Death Note_ to a human.

The chosen human then has the freedom to use the notebook to his heart's desire, but the consequences are austere and satanic in nature. It will twist and corrupt a human's mind and soul to the point of no return, even an individual who might have originally planned to use it for the purest of intentions: to rid the world of evil.

In addition to the emptiness felt continuously during a god of death's endless life, their "home" only increases the hopelessness of the situation. The Shinigami realm was overtaken in terrifying darkness, engulfing its macabre landscape. The only source of light was a dimly shining orb in the middle of the sky which gave off no heat. Black clouds of dust strangled the atmosphere, killing any form of plant life that might have attempted to pierce the barren wasteland. The hopeless scenery stretched out for miles, even to the horizon and continuing out into infinity. The life-crushing landscape was further enhanced by solid mounds of white sand and skeleton fragments that appeared to ominously hang with a sense of pure decay over the decrepit crevices and hills. In between two long jagged rows of massive bones which stuck out of the ground in the shape of what could have been a rib cage was the skeletal form of a gaping mouth with teeth the size of cars that once belonged to some monstrous behemoth. Through the rotting jaws of this creature was an elevated heap of rotting garbage and sand. It consisted of many fragments of discarded skeletons, rusting broken pieces of scrap metal which were caked in hardened sand that had taken on the hue of dried blood, a cracked chain buried amongst the rubble and an overall mass of long-forgotten materials. Finally, there was an eerie, foreboding silence engulfing the desolate plains broken only by the soft moan of the blowing dust.

The summit of the discarded refuse hill did not have a soul upon it on first glance; however, piercing the darkness from atop this hill were two unblinking, staring red eyes. In contrast to the majority of his surroundings, this crouching figure was alive, staring out into the distance. From afar, his appearance could have passed for a human, but the malformed body of this creature would easily satisfy all definitions of "monster". From the waist up his hunched torso expanded in width and supported long bony limbs covered with crude black material. Large visible stitches permanently connected his costume to the perimeter of his neck's skin. Additionally, masses of spiked black fur protruded from both shoulders, completely covering them. The long pointed nails of his fingers looked to pierce through the wrinkled fabric at any moment. He sported broad shoulders which supported a thick, pale neck and face. When standing, he was eight feet tall. His face was long and thin, with sunken cheeks and a chin which stuck outward slightly. His eyes bulged a light yellow with ruby red pupils in the same shape, lined with heavy black eyeliner which extended upward in a jagged line about three inches; he had no eyebrows. He had dark blue 'lipstick' on his wide mouth in almost the same design. In the flattened space between his eyes, his nose arched inward. Two long pointed rows of teeth shown through his slightly gaped open mouth. His hair was long and black, combed back and sticking out in all directions. On his left ear was an earring which shined a nearly faded light gold. It was the shape of a short chain, with a small heart on the end. In contrast, around his waist was a horrific belt crafted out of fragments of rusted bones, with the buckle resembling the clear shape of a small human skull. Attached at the left side of the belt was a holding mechanism for a Shinigami's _Death Note_, the origin of it bearing the almost stapled insignia of a human skull as well. The name of this god of death: Ryuk.

The blank expression on his face told nothing about what he was contemplating. He stared out at the condition of the bleak place he supposedly called home, observing the activities of his fellow shinigami. Out across the landscape, he saw various Shinigami who simply drifted around doing nothing. One was sitting in a corner with his head bowed, asleep. Another that resembled a large Indian chief in his manner of clothing, yet was a skeleton, was rustling his armor about, massaging his shoulder with a large scythe that was draped over his shoulder. A pair of Shinigami close to him were playing something similar to a dice game with skeletal fragments in a circular bowl.

"What? A pair of sleeping skulls?" said one of them in a deep monotone voice. His head bore a resemblance to a buffalo, with cracks going all around the skeletal head.

"Heh, heh, I win again. No hard feelings right?" said the other haphazardly, with a voice that was slightly higher pitched and raspy. The first Shinigami noticed Ryuk sitting on the hill next to him while rubbing his head.

"Hey, there Ryuk. Would it kill you to join us? You should come play with us for a change," he said.

"No. I'll pass," Ryuk answered. The very voice of death seemed to echo out of Ryuk's mouth as his eyes narrowed and he shot them a glare without turning his face their direction. Raspy and quiet as Ryuk's voice was, it had the effect on the other two as if he had shouted in their face. They trembled slightly and then awkwardly resumed their game while attempting to slowly shift away from the ominous figure seated on the hill.

"_Hmph. Such insolent fools. When have I ever partaken in such petty games? I suppose I'll let them off with a warning…this time._" Ryuk's thoughts barely surfaced as he sat there atop the hill, growing more overcome with boredom with each moment. As his fellow gods of death knew, there was a certain darkness about Ryuk which set him apart. Deep within his rotted innards, and faintly pulsing with demented thumps, he possessed a shriveled heart which longed to kill.

Within his twisted mind, he passed the time by replaying all the "amusing" natural disasters, wars and massacres that had ever occurred in the existence of the human world during his nearly ten-thousand years of being. In the olden days of the gods of death both he and his kin had taken sick pleasure in killing their human counterparts. However, Ryuk was in a class of his own. The sadistic delight he had achieved from slaughtering by far the greatest number of mortals had garnered him the title of Grim Reaper in the tales of humans. Ryuk was the one Shinigami remaining who had the malicious mind necessary to satisfy the stereotype humans make about gods of death.

Ryuk was also one of the last among his kind who clearly remembered all the rules of how to use the _Death Note_ to maximum satisfaction. Using his extensive understanding of the notebook's power, he had tortured legions of humans with details gruesome enough to disgust young Shinigami born during the modern era. Since the _Note_'s pages would never run out, he saw its use as the ultimate form of leisure in his demonic conscience. The concept of the notebook to him was purely ingenious. He would reminisce and recall evil scenarios he himself had caused in the human world, such as the spread of the Great Plague in Europe and the great religious persecutions of the Middle Ages. Yet, the tip of a pen had not touched Ryuk's _Death Note _in exactly six-hundred and sixty years.

"_Such a wretched existence we've come to live. What's the use of this Death Note if we no longer have any reason or motivation to kill those human vermin? Do they not see the thrill of exterminating little ants such as them? Wretched insects like mortals don't deserve to live anyway. I should be the Shinigami King, then I could…no, I think I'll just be patient and bind my time. I'll lay low for a while and wait for them to come to their senses. I really consider this entire situation absurd anyway. On the other hand, if I were to kill all the bastards who have ruined our way of life, I would no doubt face the King's wrath. Damn it!_" Ryuk had made this displeasuring vow to himself four-thousand years earlier, as he watched the practice of killing humans begin to die out. As calm as he tried to make himself appear to be in modern times, his impatience was steadily growing.

Five days slowly passed as Ryuk once again sat contemplating how such a disgraceful change could come about in the lives of the once feared gods of death. The ambitious plans surfacing in his mind were terrible:

"_What's the point of being called gods of 'death' if we don't kill? It doesn't make sense. This laziness and ruin engulfing our realm is making me sick. While our existence decays into nothingness, the humans continue to prosper. They need to once again experience my wrath. *chuckle* I don't just mean the humans either. Quite frankly, I've grown tired of waiting for them to come around and agree with my way of thinking. I will personally see to it that the Shinigami will rise to greatness again!_" He unfastened his _Death Note _and maliciously began to rise. Moreover, as he glanced at the notebook, the solution to all his problems formed in his mind. A demonic grin spread across his face as his vision grew more sinister, and he attempted to stifle a crazed laugh of triumph.

"_Of course! Why did I not realize such a delightful amusement sooner? I can drop my Death Note and force a power-hungry person to do my bidding for me! He will become my puppet and slaughter as many humans as I order him to, fulfilling my will. If the person who picks it up has it in mind already to rid the world of a certain type of people, it will be even more entertaining._" Unfortunately, something occurred to him. He sat back down with a thud as the bones he sat upon cracked. There was one obstacle to Ryuk's plan. Since he would be dropping his notebook into the human world, he would need another for himself. Ryuk simply could not part with his "precious" _Death Note._ This would mean murdering one of his own kind and stealing theirs, but to Ryuk their life was meaningless anyway so it would not matter. He already had the perfect candidate in mind.

Looking to his left, he noticed a Shinigami named Sidoh. Sidoh was, in contrast to Ryuk fairly young, only about one-thousand five-hundred years old, and his personality absolutely sickened Ryuk. He acted as though Ryuk wanted to be his "friend" and had this cheerful attitude which was considered utterly disgraceful in Ryuk's twisted mind. In addition, he hated using his _Death Note_ and was quite content with the empty lifestyle held by his race. Ryuk could have tolerated his attitude except for one aspect: Sidoh simply refused to leave him alone. Sidoh seemed to enjoy trying Ryuk's patience, so much so that Ryuk was on the verge of brutally torturing him and then murdering him, to give him a taste of how a "proper" god of death should behave. Now he had a good reason to, as Sidoh hovered over to him for the third time in the last hour; he saw his opportunity and was about to capitalize on it, with demonic intentions.

"_Once I kill him, everything will come to fruition!_" thought Ryuk as he attempted to mask the ambition glaring through his expression, yet laughing maniacally in his mind.

"Hi, Ryuk. What you smilin' about? I haven't seen you smile in ages, buddy! What's going on?" asked Sidoh in a high-pitched rasp which made Ryuk's eardrums ring with hate. Unfortunately for Sidoh, he was ignorant to the horrific reputation Ryuk had with the rest of the gods of death. It was known far and wide in the Shinigami realm that whatever you do, you did _not _want to provoke Ryuk's wrath. It was just a simple fact of everyday life to the rest of the Shinigami. Ryuk was known as an absolute devil among his brethren. There were legends about his evil spread throughout the Shinigami realm. There were stories of him when he was younger and more active slaying his own Shinigami kin if they even so much as angered him slightly. He did not just slaughter them quickly and painlessly either; to suffer the wrath of Ryuk in those days was a deliberate and agonizing process, as he tortured those he had a grudge toward for days, sometimes weeks on end, with devices and methods that even now make fellow shinigami cringe in fear. Whenever Ryuk was torturing someone, the stories say the haunting, blood-curdling screams of his victims could be heard echoing from several miles away, blended with his maniacal laughter.

Though, as time passed and Ryuk grew in age, the frequency of Ryuk's killings slowly had begun decreasing. This led his fellow gods of death to become under the impression that perhaps Ryuk's evil was waning, but no one had dared test that theory intentionally. In actuality, Ryuk's level of patience had increased so that he tolerated vexation to a certain degree and the effects of waiting for so long to kill humans was making him lazy. Nevertheless, under these shallow, deceiving changes to Ryuk's demeanor, the magnitude of evil harbored in his malformed body was more prominent now than ever before.

"Ah, same as always I suppose. So Sidoh, I hear that lately you've been pursuing a certain female Shinigami that you think might like you. Well, there she is right over there," said Ryuk with sarcasm, readying the jagged cutlass he kept hidden under a small pile of scrap metal he kept next to him at all times while he sat there. "Over there, look!" he said with malice tightly woven into each word.

"Huh? Really? Where?" asked Sidoh with joy as he turned his back carelessly on Ryuk to look for this supposed "girl". Instantly and without remorse, Ryuk drew the cutlass and with an abhorring scream of triumph drove it into the back of Sidoh's thick skull. With an initial spewing gust of black blood which splattered the garbage pile they were standing on, Ryuk began shaking the grotesque cutlass back and forth carving a hole in Sidoh's skull as blood spurted continuously amongst Sidoh's blood-choked rasps of pain. With a maniacal laugh, and the cutlass still jammed tightly inside Sidoh's head, Ryuk lifted the writhing carcass into the air.

"R-Ryuk, *cough* y-y-you… bastard! *cough*" gurgled Sidoh, his speech severely constricted due to the blood erupting from his mouth.

"Hmph. Such a pathetic excuse of a god of death. You don't deserve to breathe the same air as true Shinigami like me. Had you not noticed that none of the others are as keen about approaching me as you? You want to know why, you foolish piece of shit? All those stories they tell about me, they're all painfully CORRECT!" Ryuk taunted maliciously, jerking the cutlass violently inside Sidoh's head as he said 'painfully', carving through his eyes, nose, and mouth, and finally driving the cutlass down all the way through the middle of Sidoh's body with trained ferocity as he yelled 'CORRECT'. The two halves of Sidoh's body fell with a sickening squelch, the remains of the head brutally mutilated far worse than the rest of the body.

Ryuk surveyed his work for a moment, the cruel expression on his face remaining as he stared down at the item he had murdered Sidoh to acquire, not even showing the slightest change in demeanor in that he had just heartlessly murdered one of his own kind. He even went so far as to lick the fresh blood off the dripping cutlass. He bent over to pick up Sidoh's _Death Note_. Then, the back of his hunched-over frame sprouted jet-black wings which resembled those of a buzzard. With a sick smile on his face, he took off into the air, disrupting the ever-present flow of blowing dust, headed off to the stairway which led to the human world. As he passed over his fellow gods of death, they looked up to see the shadow of the malevolent demon, cringing in fear as his red eyes pierced their universally rotting hearts.

"This should provide me some amusement," cackled Ryuk ominously.


End file.
